


Blow Me Down

by sister_wolf



Category: 21 Jump Street, Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-05
Updated: 2004-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He <em>really</em> hadn't expected <em>this</em>.  ("Hey, you're Joe Dick."  "Yep."  "Great show, really fantastic."  "Thanks.  So... you wanna suck my cock."  "I-- what?  Fuck you, I'm not that easy."  "Sure, you keep telling yourself that, kid.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> So there's an episode of 21 Jump Street where Johnny Depp's character, Tom Hanson, goes undercover as a punk rock kid. He attends a concert with a *terribly* pretentious punk band, and [](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/profile)[**heuradys**](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/) and I got to talking about how Joe Dick would beat the *crap* out of their lead singer just for being an annoying prick. Which led to [](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/profile)[**heuradys**](http://heuradys.livejournal.com/) daring me to write Joe Dick/wee!punk!Tom Hanson smut.

He hadn't expected this, any of this-- not just how it felt, being part of the pit, part of the energy of bruises and sweat and music so loud you could feel it in your _bones_ \-- but especially not how it made him feel, free of what he was (Tom Hanson, undercover cop), free to be a stupid kid, free to do incredibly stupid things, like this, right now, on his knees on the filthy tiles of a bathroom in the basement of a club, sucking a punk rock singer's cock.

He _really_ hadn't expected _this_. ("Hey, you're Joe Dick." "Yep." "Great show, really fantastic." "Thanks. So... you wanna suck my cock." "I-- what? Fuck you, I'm not that easy." "Sure, you keep telling yourself that, kid.")

Fuck. Maybe he really _was_ that easy.

There was a heavy hand in his carefully spiked hair, gripping and _pushing_ when he tried to back off a little. Tom braced himself with his hands on Joe's hips and tried not to choke. God, he hadn't done this in so long-- but it was still the same, the stretch and burn in the muscles of his jaw, the rawness at the back of his throat, the salty taste of pre-come-- he hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"Fuck, yeah, you just take it--" Joe's voice was rough and low, hoarse from the show. The fingers in his hair tightened and twisted a little and Tom tried not to moan at the feeling.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off Joe when he was on stage-- black mohawk, sneer, the way he _moved_ (like he was fucking the entire audience, holding them down and making them _like_ it)-- and it was just... this was the way it was supposed to be, this was _punk_ , not that pathetic little poser that Tom had been sent here to keep an eye on.

And this was stupid, this was _insane_ , anyone could walk through this door, he could be arrested, he could lose his _job_ \-- but right now it didn't fucking matter. Right now all that mattered was the taste and the scent and the sound of Joe muttering "fuck, _fuck_ " as Tom did his level best to deepthroat him.

The door swung open, the sound of music from down the hallway getting louder for a second, and Tom's eyes snapped open and he tried to pull away, but the hand in his hair wasn't _letting_ him. He was frantically trying to calculate whether biting down would get him free or just turn Joe on _more_ , when the door swung shut again and there was a loud sigh and a deeply disgusted, "Jesus fucking _christ_ , Joe, is that kid even legal?"

Joe's hand in his hair didn't let up even for a second. "Maybe, maybe not. I didn't exactly ask to see his fucking _license_ before letting him blow me."

"Joe, you asshole, could you _try_ to think with something other than your dick for once? _Anyone_ could walk into here--"

"Guess you'd better stick around and-- mmmh-- guard the door, then, Billy."

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed, scared, and more turned on than he could ever remember being before. The guy-- Billy-- was standing there _watching_ Joe fuck his mouth, and yeah, Joe's fingers were tugging on his hair, but he knew at _least_ a dozen ways to get out of this hold ( _most_ of them without seriously injuring Joe), but the part he didn't want to think about too much, because that was just really fucking twisted... was that he didn't _want_ to.

Joe stroked a hand rough with guitar calluses down the side of his face, stroking his jaw for a moment before running his thumb along the edges of Tom's parted lips, spreading the slick of saliva and pre-come over Tom's lower lip. "He's so fucking hot like that, isn't he. On his knees and sucking me like the little slut he is. Is it making you hot, Billy? Maybe you want to fuck his mouth too--"

"Fuck you, Joe."

Joe laughed, low and raspy. "You'd _like_ that, wouldn't you."

Jesus, he-- fuck. Tom kept his eyes closed and tried not to think about it, tried _not_ to think about the other guy-- Billy-- that was the blond guitar player, wasn't it?-- fucking Joe while Tom sucked him off, but somehow the fantasy changed, switched so that now Billy was fucking _him_ while Joe used his mouth. Tom moaned around Joe's cock, tilting his head to get a better angle, sneaking a hand down to rub himself with the heel of his hand. God, he was so fucking _hard_ \--

"You touching yourself, kid? Don't make yourself come--" Joe's hand twisted painfully in his hair. "I've got _plans_ for you."

Tom moaned again, dropping his jaw open, bracing his hands against the cold cement wall behind Joe as he started fucking Tom's mouth for real, short, sharp thrusts that banged against the back of his throat so _good_ \-- Joe was starting to growl under his breath, broken bits of words like "fuck" and "yes" and "god, _Billy_ "-- that last one as he came, flooding Tom's mouth with bitter come, holding Tom's head against him until he was on the verge of choking. When Joe let him go, finally, Tom gasped for breath, sitting back on his heels and wiping come off his mouth and chin.

Joe was leaning against the wall, his head tilted back and his mouth curved in a weirdly angry smile. "C'mere, kid," he said, crooking a finger.

"It's _Tom_ , not _kid_."

"Fucking whatever, kid. Come _here_."

Tom rolled to his feet, standing awkwardly in front of Joe, hyper-aware of the fact that Billy was still just _standing_ there, not making a sound. Joe grabbed Tom's arm and jerked him around until he stood with his back to Joe, facing Billy, who was leaning against the bathroom door, his arms crossed, frowning at them like he _wasn't_ hard, the outline of his dick obvious even through his loose jeans.

"He's really fucking pretty, isn't he, Billiam? You wanna watch, don't you. Yeah, and hate yourself for it-- that's my Billy." Joe pulled Tom back against his big, warm body, both hands working on opening his belt and plaid pants.

"You're such an asshole, Joe." Billy shifted uncomfortably, hunching his shoulders, but he didn't look away from Joe's hands on Tom.

"You love it." Joe shoved Tom's pants and underwear down, stroking his cock with one hand while the other slid up under his tee-shirt. Tom bit his lip and threw his head back against Joe's shoulder, pushing his cock into Joe's hand. Chuckling into Tom's ear, Joe gripped him _hard_ and rubbed his thumb over the top of his dick, spreading slick pre-come around.

Tom made a helpless noise, arching his back, and Joe bit the side of his neck, snarling softly and worrying the skin with his teeth.

" _Jesus_ ," Billy gasped, and Tom opened his eyes-- he hadn't been aware he'd closed them-- and watched Billy thud his head back against the bathroom door, his face anguished. Slowly, seeming to fight himself all the way, Billy slid his hands down and rubbed himself through the fabric of his jeans.

"Yeah, that's it-- unzip your jeans, Billy, I wanna see you--"

Billy unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out-- no underwear, maybe it was a punk thing-- and Tom dragged in a deep breath through his nose as Joe stroked him hard and ruthlessly, hand twisting almost painfully on the upstroke.

Billy was jerking himself off while he _stared_ at Joe's hand on Tom's cock. Tom felt exposed and helpless, and seriously disturbed at exactly how much that was turning him on. God, he was gonna need _therapy_ after this-- not like he could ever tell the department shrink, "Oh, and I'm a little traumatized, because while I _realized_ I was bisexual, I never knew I got off on being used as a pawn in someone else's twisted little mind-fuck-- not to mention the semi-public sex thing--" God. Tom swallowed back a laugh, whimpering as Joe twisted a nipple _hard_.

"C'mere, Billy," Joe growled. Billy shook his head, hand pausing on his cock. "Come _here_ , Billiam."

"No," Billy said, his voice low and rough, but he moved away from the door anyway. "No," he said again, crossing the floor to them, standing in front of Tom with his arms crossed, his head down.

"Yeah." Joe slid his left hand out from underneath Tom's tee-shirt, sliding it up Billy's chest and hooking his fingers around the back of Billy's neck. "Yes," he muttered, his voice strangely gentle, as he pulled Billy against Tom. "Jerk him off," he growled into Tom's ear.

Jesus. Just when he didn't think this could _get_ any more twisted. Right, and he was going to think about how much Billy's obvious reluctance turned him on approximately-- never, if he could help it. Tom tried really hard not to think about what he was doing, as he slid his hands into Billy's open jeans and curled his fingers around his hot, leaking cock.

Joe tugged on the back of Billy's neck again, and they were kissing, the angle a little awkward because while both of them _were_ taller than Tom, they weren't _that_ much taller, and Tom turned his face to the side and concentrated on not suffocating on Billy's shoulder. And then Joe's hand twisted on his cock again and Tom couldn't help but _bite_ Billy's shoulder, tasting sweat through the thin cotton of his tee-shirt, feeling Billy's moan and the way that his cock jerked in Tom's hand, and Joe's hand tightened _again_ , and it was some kind of bizarre feedback loop with Tom in the middle, his hand on Billy's cock, Joe's hand on Tom's cock, the two of them kissing and moaning over his left shoulder, and he was going to suffocate or maybe just-- come.

"God, _god_ \--" It felt like his orgasm was being pulled out of him by his _spine_ \-- he was coming and biting Billy's shoulder and _god_ he couldn't stop-- and Billy jerked against him, crying out, the sound muffled by Joe's mouth-- and his fingers were covered in hot slickness and Billy was still fucking into his hand, making high helpless noises at the back of his throat, until he shuddered again and went still. Tom squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead on Billy's shoulder and tried to remember how to _breathe_.

"You're _mine_ , Billy, _mine_ ," Joe growled, and they were kissing again over Tom's shoulder, and jesus, he really needed to just get _out_ of here before his head exploded or something. There was really only so much intensely fucked-up sex that Tom could deal with in one day, and he figured he'd just about hit his limit. Or something. God, this was seriously _messed up_.

Tom edged his way from between the two of them and they just kept kissing, as if they'd forgotten he was even there. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt-- what, was he just some kind of sex toy to them?-- and something in his stomach twisted, not entirely (or even mostly) unpleasantly, at the thought. He was almost out the door-- almost free-- when he glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Joe was watching him, his eyes glittering.

Joe pulled his mouth away from Billy's neck and said casually, "Oh, by the way-- we're playing this club again next month. Be here."

Tom paused, his hand on the door. "And if I'm not?" he challenged.

Joe grinned. "You will be."

No, he wouldn't. No, he _wouldn't_. And Tom was sure that eventually, if he repeated it enough, he'd manage to convince himself that he _wasn't_ , exactly, that easy.


End file.
